Ghost of the Joker
by justincbenedict
Summary: The Joker's dead but still haunting his old cell at Arkham. A young psycho moves in and the Joker's spirit decides to do a bit of mentoring...
1. Chapter 1

[I apologize to my readers but my comma button is not working. That's why this seems to read like a James Joyce novel]

GHOST OF THE JOKER

"How are you feeling Miguel?" the voice came to Miggs once again. Miggs had hoped that Depakote and Clozopine would make the voice go away...and the hallucination. But there he was sitting in the corner of the cell...the big white face the red lips and the malicious green eyes (and green hair of course).

"Go away" Miggs said wearily. It was fuckin' awful man. A week ago after his trial Miguel Chauca Junior had been assigned the Joker's old cell at Arkham Asylum. It was a big deal.

A year ago the Joker had died- not the way the press expected perhaps finally killed by Commissioner Gordon for after all didn't the Joker paralyze Gordon's daughter and assassinate Gordon's second wife?

Or the Joker could have been slaughtered by one of his many criminal enemies. Or Batman might despite his anti-death beliefs actually knock the big J off by mistake. But no...the Joker had passed last February from bronchial pneumonia.

There had been a bit of humor in Orientation about the Joker's old cell. Three different inmates had taken it since the Joker's passing and they'd all offed themselves. But that didn't mean the joint was haunted did it? These guys were in fact nuts right?

The dead white face across the cell smiled showing yellow teeth. "I've been reviewing your file Miguel. Stabbing your welfare caseworker with a broken ice skate blade in third grade eh? "

The Joker screamed with laughter so loudly that Miggs was sure the entire Asylum had heard it but of course it was just Miggs's ears...scorched by the noisy mirth of a madman.

" Yes Miguel...Spending those crucial teen years in and out of the state nuthouses and the Youth Reformatory for various acts of violence and mayhem-my favorite was your tossing of the cherry bombs at Park Policemen's horses."

The clown laughed raucously. "And then while doing a nickel-dime in Blackgate you killed a hack and hid him under your bed...of course the courts sent you here! Better here than the gas chamber and what a marvelous act for a first-timer."

In spite of himself Miggs grinned. He had enjoyed shanking Officer Hoskins-one of the more obnoxious of the prison screws-it had even sexually excited him a bit. Still it was disturbing that this weird delusion of the Joker hadn't gone away.

"And now you're here in my old suite and since you're not in a strait-waistcoat or five point restraints perhaps we should find a way to liberate you...methinks you have the appetite for bigger game such as the Batman!"


	2. Chapter 2

"That's right, Miguel. Dip the "Bible" in your commode. That makes it wet and hardens it...excellent, my dear boy."

Miggs was astounded at the ghost's imagination. Miguel had never really been particularly inventive. Or really communicative, either. He'd been slapped by his bipolar Abuelita whenever he'd evinced a thought or an opinion as a little one-and he'd had a real hard time learning to read and write. So he'd stopped going to school in second grade.

"You see, you now have a weapon as hard as a rock. Now take that cord off the side of your mattress-pull the hard metal end of your shoelace off and cut the cord-they were never stupid enough to let me have shoes, much less shoelaces when I occupied this precious bedchamber-that's right. Now you've got it like a rope."

As the Joker's spirit whispered in Miggs's feverish ear, the boy tied the cord around the Bible" and moved to the door.

"You see, most of the inmates here have a clear plastic partition, so the screws can see it all, but I was too upsetting a sight, and so I have a traditional steel door with just a small glass window...and I learned how to open the glass some time ago."

How had it happened? Normally Miggs had the shittiest coordination but the new goblin within got him to push the Bible and his long thin arm out of the door opening, and then to swing the Bible out, the weight of the Bible pulling the cord out of the window and wrapping around the neck of a passing therapist.

"That's right. This is more fun than when you used clothesline to strangle the little girl in Wayne Park, isn't it? Didn't think I knew about that, Miguel?

Now drag your prey to the window-shame Harley doesn't work here anymore. Now, as he gasps, tell him to unlock the door.

He'll say he doesn't have a key-that's a lie, pull the cord in further and further, right, put your foot up against the door and drag the rope in the window till his head is pushed in and is about to pop."

Yes, and just before Dr. Bullivant suffered a garrot-ing, he unlocked the door...Miguel came out the door, and then quickly broke the good doctor's neck, and switched his blue coverall for the doctor's ill fitting tweed suit, and with the clown's voice in his ear, was out of the Arkham Asylum within twenty minutes.


End file.
